Your father, a poet,
Is published.
You are certain
We haven't heard of him.
Your soft clear face,
Brushed with hair,
Crinkles in concentration,
Searches for trees.
Rumpled in boy's sheets,
Belly pressed towards sleep,
A hair wave trundles down
Neck and shoulders.
Flannel pajamas form
You and winter scenes
Of snowmen and skaters
Tickle your pale flanks.
The machine kicks in after four
Rings, pressing pleas of
Happiness onto erasable tape.
You screen every call.
You are pressured by the phone.
The vinyl bench in the Blue Metroline
Train presses your intense desire
For freedom into my back.
I sit and write a letter,
From my suburban room, forming words
that tell why I could miss
The last Metro home.
Your father, a poet,
Is published.
You are certain
We haven't heard of him.
Your soft clear face,
Brushed with hair,
Crinkles in concentration,
Searches for trees.
Rumpled in boy's sheets,
Belly pressed towards sleep,
A hair wave trundles down
Neck and shoulders.
Flannel pajamas form
You and winter scenes
Of snowmen and skaters
Tickle your pale flanks.
The machine kicks in after four
Rings, pressing pleas of
Happiness onto erasable tape.
You screen every call.
You are pressured by the phone.
The vinyl bench in the Blue Metroline
Train presses your intense desire
For freedom into my back.
I sit and write a letter,
From my suburban room, forming words
that tell why I could miss
The last Metro home.
it is a memory of
teeth and bruises
it is a memory of
fire and poison
words over bear
liters of scotch
portions of songs
huddled over tears
in the corner on the
floor all night
mugs of water drunk
poured; a desk, a floor
bruises to hide
coffee brewed and tea
over bread and cheese
grimaces, teeth
firm slaps anger
revulsion, raw bare
passion resonating
to the burning of
Sting all night
the fatigue held in
bones, in flesh,
the sting of hangover
i am not your friend
you are not my friend
not enough time has
passed and why doesn't
this lover just leave
in the morning you
ask me you ask and you
are so sad so tired so
strong. I watched the
muscled arms, the tense
torso, the sprung legs
round angry thighs
breasts pressing forward
held tight all day in
oppressive heavy work
still so sad so sick from
love running until the
lungs burn and cheeks red
panicked late at night
tears and music and then,
"do you know tosca, do you?
you must visit slovenia
you must understand you
must sense this kind of
love to understand why
i took the cigarette and
burned out my own face
why i am wild
why i am crazed
why i am so cruel
why you must hate me
to truly love me
to be my lover now"
i see your pretty body
and short hair with bangs
dark with lighter stripes
"this is me; this is me"
so beautiful all of it
but sad and dangerous
"most creatures under god
are harmless unless frightened,
cornered or sick," i thought.
so lovely so successful
so formidable so brilliant
yet nothing without love?
and a tender embrace
a tender kiss and a walk
to the tram station, 7b
it is a memory of
teeth and bruises
it is a memory of
fire and poison
words over bear
liters of scotch
portions of songs
huddled over tears
in the corner on the
floor all night
mugs of water drunk
poured; a desk, a floor
bruises to hide
coffee brewed and tea
over bread and cheese
grimaces, teeth
firm slaps anger
revulsion, raw bare
passion resonating
to the burning of
Sting all night
the fatigue held in
bones, in flesh,
the sting of hangover
i am not your friend
you are not my friend
not enough time has
passed and why doesn't
this lover just leave
in the morning you
ask me you ask and you
are so sad so tired so
strong. I watched the
muscled arms, the tense
torso, the sprung legs
round angry thighs
breasts pressing forward
held tight all day in
oppressive heavy work
still so sad so sick from
love running until the
lungs burn and cheeks red
panicked late at night
tears and music and then,
"do you know tosca, do you?
you must visit slovenia
you must understand you
must sense this kind of
love to understand why
i took the cigarette and
burned out my own face
why i am wild
why i am crazed
why i am so cruel
why you must hate me
to truly love me
to be my lover now"
i see your pretty body
and short hair with bangs
dark with lighter stripes
"this is me; this is me"
so beautiful all of it
but sad and dangerous
"most creatures under god
are harmless unless frightened,
cornered or sick," i thought.
so lovely so successful
so formidable so brilliant
yet nothing without love?
and a tender embrace
a tender kiss and a walk
to the tram station, 7b